


HWD Drabbles

by Papillonae



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Alternate Universe - Vikings, Ancient History, Coming of Age, Crossdressing, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Freckles, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Impersonation, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, M/M, Mercy - Freeform, Multi, Origin Story, Sparring, Survivor Guilt, Unrequited Love, piano lesson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:16:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillonae/pseuds/Papillonae
Summary: From the Hetalia Writers Discord Drabble Game Nights. A series of short drabbles, which may or may not become later works...





	1. City Lights

The lights of the city wreath America in neon red and white as she undresses. The glow from the hotel room window is strong, even filtered through the blinds. It’s a small, run down place – but at least it’s far from the underground speakeasy. At least up here, in the lofty suite, Lithuania can think.

When she locks eyes with America, she loses her train of thought.

“Oh honey,” she cooes demurely, rolling her stockings down, “enjoying the view?”

Lithuania can feel her face heat, and she can only dumbly stare in awe as America joins her in bed, straddling her.


	2. Contract

The contract was absolute. With her brother in the condition he was, Liechtenstein steeled herself. Donning his clothes – his leather armor – she makes for his personal armory. Her eyes catch sight of dagger on the table. It would do the job nicely.

She doesn’t think twice about sawing her beautiful, flaxen braids off with the blade. Mercenaries are bound by their contract. Though Switzerland lay in bed with his life on the line, he would still rendezvous with his client. Liechtenstein would make sure that he arrives on time, even if it means going in his place.


	3. Hot and Cold

There is a chill in the air on the top deck of the cruise liner. Liechtenstein shivers and pulls her shawl fully over her shoulders. There aren't many people above deck, and she feels terribly lonesome. She is drawn to the music and the pulse of the dancing below.

She can feel the heat of all the bodies dancing as she descends the stairs below deck. It's loud, but at least it's better than being alone above deck.

As she watches the people dance, a gorgeous woman, smiling and laughing, makes her way over. Never in a million years did she ever expect Ukraine to approach her.

"Honey, are you having fun?" she asks.

Liechtenstein nods, still in awe. She tries not to let her eyes wander to Ukraine's arms...

"Would you like to come dance with me?"

At this, Liechtenstein shakes her head, suddenly embarrassed.

"Well... you are always welcome to join us! Try to have fun, okay?"

She leans in, lifts Liechtenstein's chin up, and feathers a polite kiss on her cheek. All Liechtenstein can do is stare up dumbly, her face flushed as Ukraine smiles warmly down on her before dancing her way back onto the floor.


	4. Garden

They stepped together into the garden, away from prying eyes and early risers. The cool grass felt heavenly on their feet.

They started first with guided meditation and mindful stretches. It was amazing, how such a simple routine made Lithuania feel so much more relaxed. He took in a breath of air; the smell of fresh dew and early Spring filling his lungs. The tension in his shoulders seemed to melt away.

One last exhale, this time in unison, and the two faced each other — assuming their stances.

China spoke first. "I have enjoyed this time with you."

It took Lithuania back a little, but he couldn't help but smile. "Likewise."

They began to side-step, sizing each other up. Sparring was the only time they could really forget Soviet formality; it had been the only thing that kept them connected. Only the flowers knew of what they did; only the grass knew the bend and curve of their scar-riddled backs as they collapsed together, unlearning years of hardness in gentle touches: fingertips on skin, lips pressed to old wounds.


	5. Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had been thinking about writing fic for dA artist R-Ninja (Rinbo)'s Ancients OCs recently, and it's SEVERELY OVERDUE, but if you are interested in learning more about those OCs, follow the link: https://www.deviantart.com/r-ninja/gallery/26932937/Hetalia-Ancients-OCs

How long had he been staring out at the horizon, waiting for his beloved to return? 

The murky water lapped at his ankles. It glinted faintly with ribbons of the late afternoon sun. The sands, heavy and generous with amber, caused the shoreline to glitter. As Aestii still stared out into the distance, he hardly heard it when young Prussia began to stomp and trudge through the tide pools near him, his small basket teetering with loose pebbles.

His children – the Balts – had been scattered across the shore, each of them with aprons and pockets overflowing with smooth stones and seashells. They played and laughed, splashing with their hands and feet.

In the light, Aestii seemed almost ethereal in his melancholic beauty, his fiery hair fluttering slowly in the breeze. It had been exactly ten years, seven months, and twenty-four days since Scandinavia and his ship had disappeared over the horizon. To him, it seemed like only days. No, it would be any moment now that he would see his ship cresting over the waves…

He felt a tug on his sleeve.

“Papa.”

He knew this child’s voice well. “Litua,” he murmured affectionately, his eyes leaving the line between sky and sea to meet Lithuania’s concerned gaze, “Please help your brothers and sisters.”

“We’ve finished. Can we go home now?”

Aestii cast one more glance out at the sea and forced himself to smile. “Yes. Let’s go home.”

When Lithuania reached for his hand, he did not hesitate to take it.


	6. Not Enough

Liechtenstein awakes in the middle of the night with a start, a gnawing feeling grinding at her stomach. It was another dream of that time, mere years ago... her hands still feel tingly and numb, but she can't decide if it was from sleeping on her arms, or if it was the lingering feeling of fading away... the same feeling... all on the backdrop of hushed rain and the anguished cries of her people...

She shivers and wraps her duvet around her shoulders. In the darkness of her room, she quietly allows herself to weep.

Switzerland saw her as she was. Switzerland dressed her wounds, fed her, housed her - even when he himself was battered and bruised, starving and living in squalor. He was heaven-sent. Liechtenstein was absolutely certain.

Her crying rattles her small frame and she sobs until she feels sick. Why should she be saved? Why should this guilt still sit in her like a fiery coal?

No matter how many pajamas she makes, no matter how close she stands by him, Liechtenstein will never feel worthy of his mercy. It's not enough. It's never enough.


	7. Five

The night is so cold, and Lithuania stirs to roll himself over in the bed. Russia watches him readjust, his eyes now transfixed on the way Lithuania looks when he's asleep.

He can't resist tracing the freckles on his bare shoulders gently with his fingertips. Lithuania shudders only slightly, but he leans into the touch. Russia finds constellations and shapes, the faintest trace of a star. He counts the points: _one, two, three, four, five..._

Finally, he leans forward and presses his lips lightly to each and every freckle. He can hear Lithuania sigh as he offers him his neck. Russia can only oblige.


	8. Treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt actually plays a little into the YH universe... :)

There was a silence that fell over the crew as Captain Fenrir stood, his sword drawn out toward the handsome young Jarl. It was hard to tell who was winning this duel; the sun had been in the sky for hours, now threatening to set. The Jarl's jewels and scarves caught the light of the sun, his pale blonde hair mussed by the sea's wind.

Finally, he smiled as Captain Fenrir lowered his weapon and approached.

"What is this?" the Jarl asked calmly, laughing softly as the fearsome captain tossed his sword aside, "are you throwing the match?"

None of the crew, not even those of the Jarl's, had expected the Captain to take a knee before the Jarl. When he took his hand, Captain Fenrir looked straight up into his eyes. The captain's crew began to approach, but his quartermaster wisely stopped them.

"For years," he began in a low voice, "I have sailed these waters, and have taken many treasures. I would gladly give them up for a place by your side."

And so it is said that Captain Fenrir traded his title for a life at sea with the Jarl Väinämöinen. It is said that the old captain's vessel still sails, but under a different name, its new captain still seeking that same treasure he found that day...


	9. Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... NOT a spoiler for YH!!! but definitely a plausible "ending" you could give it? ;) but that fic won't be over for another 20 chapters or so... ( help ;;;;; )
> 
> Honestly the minute I read the prompt I thought of Vienna Teng's "Eric's Song," which is extremely fitting for this pair.

It's strange, to think on how swiftly their home had risen from the ashes. But, even stranger still, how foreign it felt when the crown - so long kept from the light of his people - was placed atop Feliks' head.

He looked expectantly out into the crowd, his eyes scanning some familiar faces, thankful that the uprising hadn't taken them all. It dawned on him how they had all aged - how strange - but, then again, a lifetime of travel on foot and on the sea had probably aged him, too. It was the first time since he was young that he did not see a faceless crowd, nor feel the restlessness in his eyes. Stranger still.

He looked back out at the fields, the golden waves, the way he had with the king before him. It was where everything began, the day he met Toris. Strange, to think on how he had loved him from that day - and even stranger to think on how that love was returned, many years after, on the most unlikely of journeys.

Stranger still, he watched as Toris emerged from the rye, dressed in robes once denied him. They caught each others' gazes and smiled. Feliks nearly wept as Toris knelt before him to receive his crown. The rosary still hung from his neck.

_Strange, how certain the journey..._


	10. Lesson

The piano bench was most uncomfortable. The cool, unforgiving seat forced Elise to sit up straight; she could feel the curve of her back so painfully, moreso when Roderich, with her permission, guided his hand to show her the proper posture. They placed their fingertips on the ivory keys, and the gesture made Elise falter. Her hands began to tremble. It was not the first lesson, but it certainly felt like it every single time.

"You won't hurt the keys," Roderich said sternly, then even more gently: "if you make a mistake, make it loud. Let's begin." 

The pressure to play was stifling. She brushed her long braids behind her as they began to play together: her teacher on the rhythm section, while she played the melodic line. It was a slow duet, and Elise definitely felt her sweaty fingers slip between keys, but she was not chided for it a single time. Playing next to her teacher was intimidating, but as Elise dared a glance up at Roderich's face — how calm and at peace he looked to be, lost in the music — she decided to endure until the next lesson.


	11. Forest/Red/Silver

The winter had been unforgiving that year - as it had been for such a long time. The seasons blurred together without his lover by his side, and Aestii had grown as cold as the snow at his feet.

He numbly trod through the snow-covered forest, heedless of how raw and red his feet had become. It was as his heart began to despair and his heart began to cry out that the solitary cry of a wolf interrupted him. He looked up from the red-raw of his feet and found a beautiful silver wolf before him. It stopped its howl, staring intently at him even as it turned to walk further into the wood. Aestii felt compelled to follow, and the wolf seemed to nod. He walked behind the wolf, deeper into the forest, his feet burning and frostbitten. Once he could walk no further he collapsed face first into the snow.

When he gripped at the snow and lifted his head, he saw a small grove in the woods untouched by snow - the silver wolf had led him to its pack. The other wolves looked upon him, leery of his presence, but they soon stepped aside. At the center of the grove lay another large silver wolf - a mother - and curled within her furs was a small child with wild brown hair. The child stirred and turned to face Aestii, his eyes as deep and green as the forest itself.

Aestii's heart thawed at once.


	12. Persuasion

Natalya tightened the bandage around his arm. The pressure was so strong against the wound, it earned her a wince. It was a small victory, all things considered.

This man had taken everything from her: her family, her lands, her home. At least she was able to keep her language. Not all was lost.

Her thoughts then flickered to her brother, the way he had been taken from her, the vision of his scarf still flapping in the wind... She wound the bandages tightly, delighted to hear him hiss at the pain.

When she took a cloth up to clean his face, she had expected to see it twisted in pain. She was surprised to find him staring back at her. He had seemed quite relaxed, in spite of being covered in scrapes and bruises, in spite of the blood caked in his long brown hair. But there was something in the way he looked upon her, some sort of softness in his eyes that seemed kind. It was clear that he would give anything to make her feel safe and comfortable. It was almost persuasive.

She pushed that bile-like warmth back down her throat.

When she set to work on rubbing away the blood from his temples, he smiled. "Thank you," he said.

At this, she rubbed hard into the head wound, which made him groan. "Don't thank me," she scoffed. Though she had not been convinced, she had stayed with him long until all of his wounds had been dressed.


End file.
